As I was proudly carrying it forward I heard a voice say "Whatcha gonna do wit that ole manure fork girl?" I turned around and saw some old farmer with a smirk on his face and felt the pressing need for a pithy response. However, being the lady that I am, and because my mama "didn't raise no fools", I showed considerable restraint by not saying what immediately came to mind. Instead, I handed it over to one of the auctioneer's assistants who held it up in the air.
The auctioneer looked at it and said, "Why are we auctioning that thing off?"
"Because it was a request.""Okay???"
I proudly placed my bid.
"What's that? Are you kidding me?"
Someone had upped my bid. Surely none of these other yahoos had the sense to know the value of such a fine piece. The auctioneer looked stunned. I swiveled around in my chair. (I always sit up front so as not to fall asleep and fall off of my chair in the middle of the proceedings.) There it was. That same smirk.
I cast him the look. You know the look. The one that's been known to stop an errant child at 50 paces. Well apparently it still works. I place my new bid, silence reigned, and I was the proud new owner of a rusty pitch fork.
Well at least it's mine, temporarily, until some other person with discriminating tastes finds it in my shop.
Here is the pitchfork along with some of the other wonderful goodies from a weekend of foraging that will be appearing in my shop this week.
Well, I have a whole lot more, but there seems to be a sudden problem with uploading photos to blogspot. So I guess you will have to watch the shop for more of my finds.